This is a song about "Air maxs"

When danielle or milan decide to fucking share

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

Might as well prepare

I'm running out of air

Ain't no skipper but all my bitches is ginger hair

She showed no lover's care, mauled like she was just cuttin' air.

Standing on the chair ready to kick and dangle in air.

Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere

Yessir... momma looking puerto rican and she got the best hair

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

Striving, working nine to five with no health care

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

With a group of bitchs we're like fishes they got tendense to get wetter man you can drown in there

Floating in the quietness, fortifying my alliances, lost in the air,

With that weed in the air

We both grown and i dont care